


Herald's Rest

by wafflekink



Series: Herald's Rest [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Feedism, Iron Bull is a service top fucking fight me, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Rope Bondage, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2020-08-19 14:09:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20211046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflekink/pseuds/wafflekink
Summary: Tanroth Lavellan has had some trouble adjusting after finally defeating Corypheus. Solas has disappeared with no word, and she's still grappling with her hurt and rejection, and is reminded of it every day by her missing vallaslin. She's tried her best to get on with things, but lately she's been turning to food for comfort more often than she'd like.But when Iron Bull propositions her, offering a night of pleasure, gluttony, and freedom from her troubles, she realizes food might not be the only thing she craves.





	1. Vallaslin and Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> This is very much a weight gain fic. Turn back if this is not of interest to you.

The first thing I did every morning was reach into the basin beside my bed splash cool water on my face. And every morning since Solas had removed my vallaslin, I struggled to recognize myself.

I stared at my face, dripping wet and bare of the markings that I had always believed would be part of me forever. They had marked me as Dalish from the time I was a young girl, just coming into my own. They had earned me respect and camaraderie with other clans. They connected me to my people, our past.

How had I been so willing to give that up?

I wiped my face with a clean cloth and closed my eyes, breathing deeply. It had only been a few months since Solas had run off to gods knew where. I reminded myself that I knew the grim story of what the vallaslin had been, that I hadn't wanted to wear slave markings. But some desperate part of me who wanted to believe in the infallibility of Dalish custom tried to make me doubt Solas' credibility. What if he'd been lying? I could get my markings again and reclaim what he'd taken from me.

But I knew he'd told the truth. Mythal's devotees had dispelled all doubt about that.

I undressed and began bathing myself with the water from the basin. I scrubbed too hard, tingling with frustration and tears I couldn't bring myself to cry. _There's no going back. What's done is done._

Once I was clean, I calmed down a bit. The daily shock of my bare face had abated. I was breathing normally. Back to my usual self. Almost.

If all went according to my usual routine, I'd get breakfast in the kitchens and find a quiet spot to eat it while I attempted to study some elvish texts with the help of a dictionary Morrigan had been putting together. I'd break for lunch, then get back to it. Then eat dinner while sifting through my correspondence.

An exciting day, I know. But I felt I deserved to relax a bit. I'd saved the whole damn world.

Which... may have also been what I told myself as I loaded my plate in the kitchens. I saved all of Thedas. You bet this entire loaf of bread and all this butter are mine. Not to mention the jam, or the bacon, or the eggs, or the pastries, or the bowl of oatmeal filled to the brim with honey and dried fruit, the... well, I could go on.

I decided I would sit in what had once been Solas' room. It was big, with plenty of room to spread out, a nice desk to study at, and a big comfy couch to relax on when I needed a break. Unfortunate memories aside, it was one of my favorite places in Skyhold. The murals, the quiet—perfect for studying.

I settled in at the desk, opening up Morrigan's dictionary and an ancient book from sometime before the fall of Arlathan, placing them side by side. I ripped off a hunk of bread and buttered it, noshing happily as I refamiliarized myself with the alphabet and what little vocabulary I knew. The world had been saved, I had a slice of warm, buttered bread in hand, and I was brushing up on my ancient elvish. It was hard to imagine a better morning.

***

Not even an hour later, I had moved onto the couch. My stomach was packed so tightly with breakfastly goodies that even that short trip had been a struggle. The falls of my pants were unlaced, and my tunic could hardly hide the damage. Yet again, I had eaten until I could eat no more. Until I was a hiccuping, belching mess who would much rather sleep than study. As I gently massaged my swollen stomach, I finally began to admit to myself that this might have begun to happen more often than I'd like. I'd never been much of a glutton. Food had never particularly interested me in the way it had begun to. I ate when I was hungry and stopped once I felt satisfied. I had never even considered taking more than my fair share.

Clearly that had changed.

I rolled over onto my side with a groan. Had I really needed all that bacon? My stomach glorped in response. I couldn't decide if that was a yes or a no. But I could decide that I felt rather content. I had enjoyed my breakfast. And I was enjoying lounging on this couch. Sure, I felt like I was about to burst, but the warmth and heaviness emanating from my stomach and lulling me into a nap was an absolute pleasure. I knew I should study or do something productive. But I deserved a nap. I'd fought an ancient god and won, after all.

***

Iron Bull had always been wary of mages. When he'd signed the Chargers up to work for the Inquisition, he hadn't been entirely sure their business arrangement would work out. Upon seeing Tanroth in action, though, tearing through half-crystallized templars and dragons with ice and fire and everything in between, he had been impressed. She didn't shy away from a fight and seemed as in control of her strength as he was. He still had a healthy fear of mage possession, but he had a feeling Tanroth would eat any demon that tried to possess her alive.

Now that they weren't constantly out in the field, he had taken to watching her practice from a safe distance in between his own training sessions. It was a way to keep busy, and a good source of entertainment. Most of the time, she used spells he recognized, but occasionally he could catch her practicing something new, which helped him plan for future battles.

She never held anything back. Her staff spun as spells bloomed out of her staff, brewing storms and fireballs. She might dodge an imaginary enemy, flipping backward as she did so, or fire shards of ice through the air as she whirled, becoming a storm herself. She was as athletic as every stereotype of Dalish elves made them out to be, but there was an extra strength to her. If someone had told him her great-great-great-grand-whatever had been Qunari, he wouldn't have been surprised. She was terrifying. And... something else.

Until recently, Iron Bull had never really considered Tanroth an... option. She was just so fucking _tiny_. He'd been with elves before, but Tanroth was smaller than any of them. She was so short she didn't even come up all the way to his chest. And when he'd met her, she'd been built like a bird. He'd seen her take her share of knocks in battle and knew she was sturdier than she appeared, but he had always had a hard time imagining fucking her. (Not that he hadn't imagined it. She was the Inquisitor—everyone in Thedas had imagined it.)

So even though she had hair just the shade of red he liked, and even though her sculpted, feline features stirred something in him, he had brushed those occasional fantasies aside. Tiny little girl like that? She wouldn't last five minutes with him.

But it was different now.

He leaned against the outer wall of Skyhold, observing. Tanroth liked to practice alone, away from prying eyes and anyone who might get in the way. Occasionally, other members of the Inquisition showed up to observe, too, but today it was just Bull. She was working particularly hard today. Working through something, he guessed. Probably still wondering if Solas was coming back. Bull snorted. He hoped he never did. He'd been glad to see the back of that obnoxious bald bastard. But everyone knew Tanroth had been mourning. Bull had seen her catching her reflection, her hands going to where her face markings had been. She missed them.

Whatever emotional turmoil she was going through, it hadn't made her any less vicious. He watched as she summoned a dark cloud and snow fell around her. A burst of ice flowed from her staff, freezing the dummy in front of her. She gave a powerful wave of her staff and a wave of energy blew the dummy to pieces.

The cloud faded, and she was breathing heavily. Her stillness allowed him to observe her more closely. He was surprised to note that she looked distinctly less breakable. More solid. He couldn't put his finger on exactly why that was. Maybe it was related to him noticing that she sort of had an ass for the first time. Had that always been there? He was sure he would've noticed it before. Maybe all his Ben-Hassrath training had started wearing off.

She moved on to the next dummy, this time wielding fire. She cast a wall of flame behind the dummy, then fired off a massive bolt of lightning, letting out a powerful roar as she did so.

The roar was what did it. Iron Bull silently promised himself that he'd tup her as soon as he got the chance. The jiggle in her walk as she headed back into Skyhold and waved at him only solidified his resolve.


	2. What Else Do You Like?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tanroth overdoes it at dinner, and Iron Bull sees an opportunity.

The day that Iron Bull first propositioned me was the same day that I realized I needed new pants.

He caught up to me just after dinner, as I was heading to my chambers. I had been trying to escape before my clothes suffered serious damage. My face was red with both the effort of walking up the stairs to my room, and a tinge of embarrassment for overfeeding myself yet again, plus all the ale I’d had. I had managed to get myself tipsy, despite all the food. And I hadn't even been alone! I'd been sitting in the Herald's Rest, gorging myself in full view of everyone. I could hardly believe myself. But it had all been so delicious, I hadn’t been able to stop.

I heard his voice behind me as I took a break on the second flight of stairs. "Boss?" 

I almost groaned aloud. _Ma ghilana mir din'an_, I thought as I flushed even redder. _Please, just kill me now._

"Yes, Bull?" I said, amazed I could even speak. I had no idea what he could want from me. There were no plans to go over. I wondered if maybe he and the Chargers were getting antsy.

He walked up to the landing, standing right beside me, towering over me. I looked up at him, breathless. My eyes were wide as I took in all of him. I felt deeply vulnerable. And interested in Bull in a way I usually wasn’t.

"Oh, I like that look." His voice had a slight growl to it. If I were a less self-possessed person, my knees would've trembled.

"W-what do you mean?" I stammered. I turned, breaking eye contact.

"The look you just got when you realized you wanted me."

My mouth fell open a bit before I snapped it closed again. "I didn't have a look."

"No?" He stepped a bit closer, closing the distance between us. I felt my swollen belly brush up against him. I looked up at him again. He looked down into my eyes, his mouth shifting into a smirk. "Are you sure?"

"I... I wasn't..." I closed my eyes and took as deep a breath as I could, centering myself. I decided to be honest. "Even if I _was_ flirting, I couldn't act on it now."

That answer pleased him. I was surprised by how much I liked knowing that. "And why is that?"

I laughed. "You were there. You saw." I used my hands to frame my swollen stomach, which fought mightily against my tunic. "Look at me. Do I really look like I could make it through an encounter with the bull right now?"

He seemed to take me in a bit more, eyes lingering on my near-outgrown pants and overtaxed tunic. He gave a quiet hum, weighing some choice in his mind. He reached his hands toward my stomach. "May I?"

I wasn't entirely sure what he was asking, but I nodded anyway. He began to massage my swollen stomach, hands gliding over the fabric of my tunic, then pressing and gently kneading. At first I whined, but soon I started to feel better. After a minute, I abruptly belched, and he stopped. I clapped my hand over my mouth, more ashamed than ever.

"Better?"

I nodded, my hand still over my mouth.

His voice dropped even lower, and he leaned down to murmur in my ear. "You're hungry again, aren't you?"

My hand dropped. I looked up at the ceiling, took another deep breath, and chose honesty again. "...yes."

He chuckled, a low rumble that made me want to purr in response. "I can fix that." He put a finger underneath my chin and made me look him directly in the eye. "Your favorite part of breakfast is porridge with honey and fruit in it. Extra butter." My mouth watered as he spoke. I almost wondered how he knew, but remembered he was a spy by trade. "If you invite me upstairs, I'll pack you so full of porridge you'll swear you're going to pop." He ran a hand over my rotund midsection. "Would you like that?”

My stomach gurgled. I was still full, but how could I say no to porridge made just how I liked it? "I would like that very much,” I sighed dreamily.

"I had a feeling you would. What else do you like, boss?” He shifted, and suddenly I was against the stone wall, my arms pinned above my head in an iron grip. Utterly in his power. With that, I had a stronger sense of where things were going. And I was surprised by how titillating it was. How excited I felt at the thought of letting everything go, giving in to all the exciting impulses rushing through me.

"I think I’d like it if you told me what I liked.” I’d never done anything like this before. I was no virginal maiden, but my sex life had never really veered into the kinds of games Bull was teasing me with.

He laughed aloud at that. “Then head to your room and wait for me.”

“Yes, captain.” I found myself smiling. I hadn’t flirted in so long. It gave me a thrill, knowing someone wanted me. Especially someone as imposing as Bull.

But even though he was imposing, I felt comfortable and entirely safe. I could sense him testing my limits, seeing what I liked and responded to. But I knew he wouldn’t push me too far, or too fast. I liked the idea of him being the boss, of getting to let go, even if just for a night. I’d always been tightly wound, and becoming the Inquisitor had worsened that tendency. To be offered freedom from making decisions and as much oatmeal as I could eat, even just for a night? It was everything I hadn’t quite realized I’d wanted.

“And, Tanroth…” His eye flicked down toward my face, burning into me. One enormous hand drifted into the loosest part of my braided hair. “I want your hair down when I get upstairs.”

“As you like, captain.”

“Good girl.” His warm hand slipped down again, moving to grab my backside. I’d felt like I was getting so big, but he could nearly cup my entire ass with one hand, reminding me how small I still was. “Go get ready. I’ll see you shortly.”


	3. Spoonfuls of Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tanroth tries bondage for the first time, and Iron Bull ensures she gets more than her fill.

I made the mistake of rushing through getting ready. I had brushed my hair and gotten undressed, done some quick washing up, and then slipped into less restrictive clothes. I settled on the edge of my bed, nervous. 

I was no prude, but I wasn't all that experienced, either. I had never slept with a Qunari before. I had never tried the things Iron Bull was rumored to like. I had faced down dragons and demons and crazed templars, but never a lustful Qunari bent on filling me with food (and... perhaps other things). 

It seemed like an age had passed when I finally heard a knock at the door. I tried to arrange myself into what I thought was a seductive pose, sitting on the bottom edge of my bed, shoulders back, hair tossed over one shoulder. I called out, "Come in!" 

When Bull walked in, I felt my face getting hot. 

He had a leather bag slung over his broad shoulders. His chest was bare, as always. He looked strong, commanding, and intimidatingly huge. He pulled a chair up to sit in front of me and sat down, looking right into my eyes. My breathing grew unsteady. "You're so red right now," he teased. "Is that just because you're already full, or because you're happy to see me?" 

It took everything I had not to squirm. Why was I so nervous? I knew Bull. I'd fought alongside him for months. I trusted him with my life—in practice, not just in theory. I sat up a little straighter. "A little of both, I think." He reached a hand out and stopped just short of my belly.

"Is this alright?" he asked.

"Y-yes," I stammered. When he closed that last bit of space between us, I let out a tiny moan. His warm hand was soothing. He rubbed slow, gentle circles across it. Taking his time. 

Eventually, he pulled his hand away and moved to take off the bag. He opened it up and rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a length of smooth rope. My heart began to pound. "This is your first time doing this, right? Being bound?"

"It is." 

"We'll take it slow," he assured me. "If you need me to pause and take a moment, say so. If you need things to stop right away, tell me. I'll cut you out immediately." He took my small hand in his. "If you feel numbness or tingling, you need to say something. Don't be a martyr." He brushed his thumb across the palm of my hand. "I know you're strong, but so am I. You're not going to hurt my feelings." He grinned, and I felt myself smiling back, butterflies flitting through my stomach.

I nodded. "I understand." But there was one thing he hadn't touched on yet. I felt embarrassed to even ask, but it was going to be central to this... tryst, or whatever it was. "Um. Did you bring snacks?" 

He winked at me. "Of course." He pulled a ceramic container out of his bag. There was a lid on it, and when he pulled it off, steam and delicious scents floated out of it. I leaned forward and sighed at the smell. Were those... apricots? Oh, gods, I hoped they were dried apricots.

He put the top back on and I pouted. "You'll get more than your fill soon enough," he chuckled. "Now, get on your knees on the bed, and put your hands behind your back." I did as he bid me. I could hear him unraveling the rope, then feel the cool silkiness binding my wrists and forearms. "I'm only binding your hands tonight," he said as he went about tying knots and checking that things weren't too tight. "If you enjoy it, we'll try other things." I could feel the bindings stiffening, holding my arms perfectly still without limiting the motion of my fingers or feeling painful.

I took a moment to gauge my feelings. Still a little nervous. But I could also feel some part of me drifting away—the part that was always in control, always ready to put up a fight, always ready to please a crowd. I could feel myself relaxing into my bindings, ready to be told what to do rather than doing the telling. 

"How does that feel?" he asked once he was finished. 

"Fantastic," I said, maybe a little dreamily. I looked over my shoulder at him. "You've done this a lot."

He gave a little hum, neither a yes or no, and then asked me to face him. "Get comfortable, without lying down." I adjusted, sitting cross-legged on the bed. He lifted up the warm pot of porridge. I felt my mouth water in response. "Are you still hungry?"

"Very much so," I insisted, despite my fullness. 

He pulled a spoon out of the container, filled with sticky, sickly sweet oatmeal. "How hungry?" 

"So hungry I'm pretty sure I could empty that whole container." It was enough food for twelve people, but it smelled so good I couldn't help but want it all. 

He brought the spoonful to my lips. "We'll see about that."

That first spoonful was perfect. As sweet as I liked it, almost syrupy, with bits of dried apricot and apple mixed in, with occasional smatterings of saltiness from all the butter. The spoonful was so big that the initial bite made my cheeks bulge out as I chewed and swallowed. "Gods, that's heavenly," I sighed. Before I knew it, there was another spoonful being pushed into my mouth. Then another. And another. He was so fast, so practiced. I could hardly swallow fast enough, and had no hands to cover my lips with to make him pause. All I could do was eat.

He rested the pot between his knees to free up one of his hands, spoonfuls of porridge still funneling their way into my waiting mouth. His free hand went to my engorged belly. I moaned through a mouthful of food as he pressed his hand gently against the bottom of my belly, as if checking it’s heft. “Lots of room to grow,” he noted. 

He lifted up my loose sleeping tunic to expose the swollen expanse of belly in front of me. The skin was drum-tight, and yet I continued to allow him to stuff me, the pale skin growing pink as it struggled to contain my indulgences. “You’re almost at your limit, aren’t you?” He was teasing me, challenging me to keep eating. I gave my head a firm shake as I chewed a particularly sweet, plump apricot. I could feel my stomach protesting, but I knew I could still eat quite a bit more. I loved feeling my stomach protruding before me, beginning to hang ever so slightly lower as I gorged myself. For once, nothing else mattered but that.

“Let’s make this more challenging, then.” He began to tease his hand along the lower part of my belly, making me squirm and nearly lose my balance. Bull had to right me. “Get up on your knees and spread your thighs apart,” he requested. Between the warm food, my overstuffed tummy, and his particularly hypnotic tone, I couldn’t even think to ask why.

His hand drifted down to tease me, cupping my mound and applying the barest amount of pressure. I gasped between swallows. “Oh, fuck  _ me _ ,” I gasped.

Iron Bull laughed. “Easy, Lavellan. You don’t want to spoil your dinner.”

I nearly bit the wooden spoon in half as he moved his thumb to rest over my clit and felt my own wetness begin to seep through my smallclothes and cotton pants. “B-Bull,” I whined as I ground against him, before my mouth was filled again and my whimpers were stifled. 

“Yes, boss?” His thumb traced around my clit, sending shudders through me. I was overwhelmed by sensation—delicious food on my tongue; the warmth, heaviness, and now painful fullness emanating from my food-packed stomach; and Bull’s ministrations—and could hardly think, let alone speak. I had a sense that this was exactly what Bull had hoped to achieve. 

“More,” I said through yet another hefty mouthful. 

He continued to tease me as he stuffed me. I was growing impatient, my rocking against his hand more insistent. But he refused to match my pace, keeping motions maddeningly slow. Reminding me that I was not the one in control. “More?” he replied. “You’d better eat faster if you want me to help you finish. I’m not giving you any more help until all of this porridge is in that greedy little gut of yours.” 

I grumbled, but I couldn’t deny how turned on I was by it all. The fact that my hands were bound and I couldn’t take care of things myself, couldn’t speed things up by pouring the whole pot of oatmeal directly down my gullet, couldn’t guide Bull’s hands to do what I desperately needed them to do. My arousal continued to grow with each bite. I could feel my eyes glazing over as I became singularly dedicated to finishing every last bite and finally getting to come.

And, in time, I did finish. I was so full I had to arch my back to keep myself from slumping forward. I hiccuped in between quiet groans, the pain in my gut so great I could hardly breathe. He let me rest for a moment, catching my breath. “Are you finally full?” He gently held my stomach in both hands. I could feel it emanating warmth, like I had a small cookfire in my gut.

“I’ve never been this full in my life.”

He ran a hand through my red hair. It was a gentle touch, and I sensed that he was proud of me. “I never would’ve guessed the Inquisitor could be such a glutton.” I flushed a deeper red as he nudged me to turn around. “Look at you,” he continued as he directed me to lean forward, so my face was against the bed and my ass was in the air, facing him. I could feel my belly nearly brushing the mattress. “The Herald of Andraste, tied up and stuffed like a suckling pig.” He ran his hands over my ass, squeezing as he liked. I pushed back against his hands, feeling my desire heating up again as I wondered what would come next. 

“Just think of what you’d look like after a month of nighttime feedings like this.” He slipped my pants off, then my smallclothes. He moved to start pleasuring me again, his hand reaching between my thighs. I moaned happily at the thought of more food, and especially more fucking. “Eating yourself into a stupor every night like some plump little noble.” I bucked against his hand and moaned Bull’s name into the mattress. 

He began working faster, and we fell into a rhythm. He talked about how lovely I might look with my arms and legs properly bound, truly at the mercy of him and my appetite. How nice it would be to watch me plump up. “Might as well enjoy getting fat and lazy, Inquisitor. You’ve earned it.” And with that, I came, thunderously and with plenty of fanfare. But he didn’t stop at one orgasm. He brought me over the edge two, three, four times, until my whole body wouldn’t stop shaking.

When he stopped, I relaxed a bit, catching my breath. I could feel my stomach churning all the excess food inside me and relished Bull’s words:  _ Might as well enjoy getting fat and lazy. _ I was so spent I nearly sank into the mattress.

I dimly felt Iron Bull untying the bindings around my arms, blood flowing back into them. It tingled a little, but nothing too bad. I moved to lie on my back once I was free of my bonds. Bull sat beside me on the bed and gently massaged my arms and hands using some sweet-smelling salve he’d pulled from his bag of tricks. “How are you feeling?”

“Really good. Really full.” My stomach gurgled, as if it was chiming in. “I’m never going to be able to fit into my old pants.” 

“With that appetite? Probably not.” He continued his massage, gently rubbing the salve over my swollen belly. “What did you think of being bound?”

I took a moment to think, reveling in the sensation of his hands on my skin. “I liked it. It’s such a simple thing, but it made me feel so different. I would like to try more, if you’re willing.” 

I looked up and saw him smiling impishly. “It would be my pleasure.” He paused, then said, “I have some other things we can try. But that depends on how much you like mixing pleasure and pain.” He moved his hands downward, rubbing salve down my thighs and legs. 

“For example…?”

“We could try paddling. Or more complex bondage—you’d be surprised what shapes the human body can get into with the help of a little rope. And there's something I’ve always wanted to try, but I’ve never had the right setup for it.”

“Something the virile, experienced Iron Bull has  _ never  _ tried? Color me shocked.” 

He scoffed as he massaged one of my feet. “Well, not everyone wants to be tied into a rope harness and suspended in the air.”

I pushed myself up a bit to face him more directly. “ _ Suspended _ ? How does that—?“

“Some very strategic, very secure knot-tying. I saw a demonstration at a brothel once, years ago, but I’ve never done it myself.” He finished his massage and lay down beside me, propping himself up on one elbow. I felt warm and tingly and safe. 

I turned to face him. “I wouldn’t mind trying that.” We were both silent for a few beats. Then I asked, “How did I do tonight?”

He placed a hand on my lower back and pulled me in closer. “You were perfect. I wasn’t sure how you’d handle being tied up. Some people completely lose it once that final knot is tied. Other people fight the sensation and never get to enjoy it. But you dove right into it.” He gave my rump a squeeze. “I never realized how much fun it would be watching you lick a spoon clean. It gave me… ideas.”

I laughed. “I wasn’t even trying to make it look good.”

“That’s what made it so good! This cute little elf, mouth open wide, no inhibitions, waiting for her mouth to be stuffed full again and again…”

“Point taken.”

We stayed like that for a bit, chatting and relaxing. We gossiped about the Chargers and the rumor that Cullen had been seen leaving Dorian’s rooms a few nights previous. By the time Bull said good night and gave my stomach one last rub (“for luck”), my cheeks hurt from all the smiling.


	4. Checking In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iron Bull takes a moment to check in with Tanroth about their first night together.

The next morning, I tried to go about things as I usually would. I performed my morning ablutions, still studiously avoiding looking at my unmarked face. My mind kept flashing images of the previous evening at me. Bull’s enormous hands running up and down my thighs. The pressure of rope around my wrists. The look on his face as he pushed another spoonful into my mouth before I’d even finished swallowing.

So I was distracted, to say the least. And confused. I was a little surprised by myself. I couldn’t quite reconcile my usual serious, controlled self with… whoever it was that Bull had played with the night before. I dressed myself in a long tunic that would hide that the falls of my pants were partially unlaced to accommodate the little potbelly that I’d sprouted. I pulled on my boots and thought of Bull’s hand between my legs. I braided my hair and remembered his fingers running through it. Some might have called it lovesickness, but that wasn’t quite right. There was something else to it, some gratification I had never found elsewhere.

I pushed it all out of my mind and tried to go about my duties (after making a stop to the camp tailor to request some new pants). The rest of the day was a blur of talking diplomacy with Josephine and catching up on the latest news with Leiliana. I skipped breakfast, reasoning that I’d had plenty to eat just hours before, which left me starving by lunch. I put far more bread and meat and cheese on my plate than was strictly reasonable and went to find somewhere quiet to eat it. I wound up in Solas’ old room, as always, and made myself comfortable on the sofa.

Just as I was about to stuff the first bite of bread in my mouth, I heard someone clear their throat.

“We should talk,” Iron Bull said as he stepped out from a dimly lit corner.

I set my bread down, trying not to pout.“About?”

He sat beside me on the sofa. “Last night. I wanted to check up on you.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not every day the Herald of Andraste gets tied up and pleasured by a Qunari mercenary.”

“That might explain why I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” I took a bite of bread, too hungry to stop myself. “I can’t believe I did that. _Me_.”

“You know something? It caught me by surprise, too.” He took the plate off my lap and began breaking off rough slices of bread, then topping them with a pile of cheese and ham.

“I’ve never… it wasn’t like anything I’ve ever done before.” He offered one of the bread slices and I took it. “I really liked it.” I took a bite. “You were _so_ good,” I said, my voice muffled by lunch.

That brought a smile to his face. “I aim to please.”

“Well, you certainly did that.” I swallowed and grabbed another slice. “You made me forget how hard things have been. How weird it’s been not to be chasing down a bad guy anymore. I hadn’t realized that was possible.”

Bull looked on in amusement as I continued to stuff my face. “You’d be surprised what’s possible with a little rope and creativity.”

“I’d like to learn,” I said, just before I finished my last bite. “Tonight, maybe? After dinner?”

“I was thinking _instead_ of dinner.”

“Oooh, yes. See, this is why you’re the one who does the tying up. Here I was, thinking I still had to go about my normal routine, and then you remind me it doesn’t even matter.”

“Or maybe I’m just hoping to start a new routine.” He pulled me into his lap so I was straddling him. His hands slipped up underneath my shirt, caressing my back before slipping forward. His broad hands circled my tiny belly, still barely noticeable. He made a noise of approval. “There’s nothing quite like an elf when they start fattening up.”

“Do you run into fat elves often?”

“Not often, but enough. I know you elves have a reputation for being naturally waifish, but you have Qunari-sized appetites once someone gives you a little push.”

I shifted in his lap, his hands squeezing gently at the little bit of softness on my frame. It felt delicious. I could imagine my belly growing enough to overflow his hands, the rest of my widening, softening. “What happens once we start… filling out?”

One of his hands slipped out from beneath my shirt. He ran a finger under my chin, along my jawline, then down my throat. “What happens to everyone. You get fatter. And greedier.” His hand drifted down to one of my breasts, thumb circling my nipple. “Elves tend to get bottom-heavy. Lots of rolling curves and door-jamming hips.” I rocked against him, chasing the image of my ass too wide to fit through the door. “You’ll still have your cheekbones, just buried under a nice, thick layer of flab.” He pinched my nipple, gently at first, then harder. “All that elfin grace melts into a waddle.” He lifted up my shirt, the slight convex curve of my indulgences exposed.

“Do you promise?” I whispered.

“Stick with me, boss, and soon you won’t even be able to waddle.”


End file.
